


Bird Brains

by orphan_account



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Fluff, I wax poetic about cereal and birds way too much in this, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Pre-Slash, Richard gives Jared a gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 21:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10448292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A small stolen moment between Richard and Jared on an early morning. Jared likes his mornings, and sometimes Richard shows up, which makes Jared love his mornings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! It's been ages since I've written fic, so apologies if I'm rusty. This was born from a cute conversation between ripplebreeze, Dunnricks, and myself on tumblr. Ripplebreeze and assholevacuum on tumblr also are credited with coming up for Jared's mother's name, Camilla. Which, tbh, I find super fitting. The post that inspired this can be found [Here!](https://ripplebreeze.tumblr.com/post/158832935535/lacageauxfilmes-dunnricks-ripplebreeze)
> 
> Any and all feedback is appreciated, and if people dig my nonsense, I'd be more than happy to keep writing for this lovely fandom!
> 
> Thanks for your time, y'all.
> 
> OH! Also if you see any typos, please let me know. I'm super anal (lol) about catching them all. I'm reaching "Jared After Being Stranded on an Island" levels of sleep deprivation though, and I'm pretty sure letters are gonna start floating off my keyboard any second now.

Mornings were what Jared could only describe as celestial. Not one for vices like liquor or pot or tobacco, Jared was often the first one awake and the first one asleep (unless required otherwise.) He’d pop out of the garage— a place he’d grown accustomed to calling “His,” even if he did share it with Gilfoyle’s servers that whirred and beeped in a way that reminded Jared of Peter Gregory’s island full of machines. But these were nice machines. They didn’t talk over him or boss him around, and some nights, Jared would find himself confessing thoughts to them; silly things here and there like what he had for lunch, or what birds he saw today, or something funny Richard said to him. And, like a comforting presence, they were always there when he woke up, too.

Sunlight would be just peaking through the curtains in the living room, and Jared would take exactly one blue porcelain mug of coffee with a splash of milk and sugar, and one bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios with an extra two squirts of honey. He was methodical in his mornings, basking in the silence of his own thoughts, charging his batteries for the day. But his favorite part was sitting out back by the pool with his breakfast and listening to the birds. Sometimes, if he was feeling especially whimsical, he’d whistle back to them and pretend to have a conversation. Mostly he was just imitating mating calls or distress signals, but wasn’t that what life mostly consisted of, anyways? And yet there’s something wonderfully poetic about that to Jared.

When he was really lucky though, sometimes he’d catch a glimpse of Richard shuffling to the bathroom, or fumbling his way to the kitchen for a glass of water before knocking out for a couple more needed hours of sleep. He was always one to run himself ragged, so when Jared was able to coax him back to bed with a gentle hand on the back as guidance, his chest felt especially buoyant. A freshly sleepy Richard could only be described as malleable; his curls would be flopped on one side, his body relaxed and pliable like putty, and his expression soft with drowsiness.

In between mouthfuls of his Honey Nut Cheerios, Jared admittedly thinks about Richard. A lot. Almost as much as he thinks about Pied Piper’s finances (which is a lot.) Almost as much as he thinks about the dwindling health of his elderly friends (which is also a lot.) And almost as much as his time in Vasser when he told Hannah Schumer that he loved her by the side of the Hudson river, moon overhead, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. And she’d turned him down.

He crunches down on a spoonful of cereal and drains the last of his milk, effectively cutting off any further thoughts for now. The early morning sun cups his pale face and he allows the feeble warmth to flood him for a moment, reminding him of a mother proudly caressing her son, before he escapes back inside. His bowl is rinsed along with his mug, and Jared listens a little too closely for any noise in the house. Silence. No Morning Richard today, it seems.

Wiping his hands on his khakis, Jared prepares himself to start cracking down on today’s work. He walks from the kitchen to the workspace, dodging one of Erlich’s smoking apparatuses, and stretches his arms high above his head, joints cracking and neck cricking, and… he pauses. Settled next to what’s become His Workstation is a small stuffed bird. A blue jay. It’s rotund with an adorable tuft of blue hair at the top of its head. Jared grabs for it immediately and gives it a squeeze; soft, pliable, malleable in his hands. He lets out a coo of adoration at it.

“Oh, you found it.”

Jared turns on his heel at the sound of Richard. The sun is coming through the curtains stronger now, providing a glowing backlight behind him. He’s clad in a thin white t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats that probably should’ve been washed last week. Jared doesn’t care about the poor state of Richard’s laundry right now though, and feels his face split into a huge grin.

“Richard… this is the kindest thing anybody’s ever gotten me. I— it is for me, right? I don’t want to be presumptuous, I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first. I just assumed because it was next to my computer—”

“It’s— it’s for you,” Richard says, his face contorting through a myriad of emotions in a matter of seconds. It always amazed Jared how expressive Richard could be for such a seemingly soft-spoken man. But he knew that underneath the stuttering and fumbling, there was a fire within him. A determined warmth that Jared saw from the first moment he met Richard, and it attracted him like a moth to a flame. “I just… I saw it the other day, and, I dunno. I know you like birds and stuff, and you’ve— you’ve done a lot for us... For Pied Piper…” He glances away, glances down at his bare feet, glances everywhere but at Jared. Richard sucks in a shaky breath and runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even further. “For me.”

Jared thinks he might start crying. But he doesn’t. Because he remembers it makes Richard uncomfortable. But he’s pretty darn close, and it’s only reigned in because Richard lets out that nervous laugh of his and takes a step back, breaking the tension. He finally meets Jared’s eyes.

“Richard, thank you.” Jared holds up the bird plush and squeezes it, whistling a bit like a bird, grinning when it gets Richard to laugh a bit— to genuinely laugh. “Blue jays actually have incredibly loud and piercing calls, so I won’t imitate it for you presently, but they’re beautiful birds. Their young are altricial and require a lot of care, but the payoff is magnificent once they blossom into their own confident selves and leave the nest. They’re commonly found in southern Canada, and—”

“Jared, I get it. You like it,” Richard cuts in, but he’s grinning mischievously. 

“Oh, no,” Jared says. Richard’s face falls quickly, but Jared swoops in with, “I absolutely  _ love _ it.” And just like that, Richard’s smile blossoms; a flicker of pride, a glimmer of relief. He huffs out a sheepish laugh, fidgeting where he stands like someone had just told him he’d won the Miss Universe pageant. “Nobody’s ever really gone out of their way to buy me something simply out of gratitude… Well, aside from Gloria at Maplewood Homes, but one can hardly consider a bag of Werther’s Originals a great gift. But her heart was in the right place.”

“Well, uh, I’m glad. I could give you something that you like. Are… are you gonna name it?”

Jared doesn’t have to think about his answer. “Camilla.”

Richard gives him a confused look, but doesn’t press any further. He simply nods, and Jared is grateful. Richard never presses, but always listens.

“Camilla,” he repeats, and Jared’s heart flutters at the sound of his mother’s name in Richard’s mouth. “It’s a nice name.”

“For a very nice bird,” Jared beams. He fidgets, steps forwards, steps backwards, dances in his spot until Richard finally catches on with a sigh.

“Alright, just this once,” he says in that voice Jared’s learned to understand means ‘I’m going to pretend I don’t want to do this, but I actually really want to.’ Jared lunges forward and wraps his spindly arms around Richard, burying his face in those curls, dragging it down to Richard’s neck. He’s practically dizzy when he finally pulls away, and Richard looks a touch more flushed, too. Was he coming down with something? Jared would have to keep an eye on that.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you, Richard.”

“I’m gonna head back to sleep for a little bit longer, but, uh.”

“Of course!” Jared places a guiding hand on Richard’s shoulders and walks him towards the hallway. “You must’ve been up late last night, no doubt, what with the results of the beta testing coming in.” Richard groans at the mention of that and scrubs a hand across his face. “I’m sorry, I should know better than to mention that at this hour." He slides his hand from Richard’s shoulders to the small of his back, smiling when Richard moves minutely into the touch.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s just… it’s the reality of it all. Of Pied Piper right now.” A pause. “I’ll catch you later then, Jared.” Richard pulls out of the touch and walks towards his bedroom, but Jared’s hand stays where it is, hanging in the air. The other clutches the bird against his stomach.

“I’m always here if you need me.”

Richard turns one last time at the sound of that. “I…” His eyes flicker over Jared, pausing at the way Jared sweetly caresses the blue jay plush almost instinctively. “Same goes for you, Jared.” He licks his lips. Richard slips back into his bedroom and gently closes the door. 

Jared stands there for a beat, Camilla cradled against his side, practically engulfed in his large hand.

“How about we celebrate with a nice handful of organic granola?” he asks Camilla. “It’s technically Gilfoyle’s, but…” he trails off, looking around conspiratorially before whispering, “he’ll just assume it’s Dinesh, probably.” A pause. “Yeah? Yeah… That would probably be unfair to Dinesh.” Jared sucks in a breath. “I’ll just take the fall later for it, I guess. It’s really quite good granola.” Another pause. “That sound better to you? …I’m glad.”

Jared gives another soft squeeze to Camilla, heads towards the kitchen, and busies himself with pouring some of the granola into a bowl. He takes it outside where the sun is now peeking fully over the horizon and he sits down, still clutching the blue jay plush as he sets down the bowl on a side table. With his free hand, Jared scatters a few pieces of the granola on the ground. A yellow-rumped warbler and an american goldfinch skittishly flutter down, dancing around one another sheepishly, hopping here and there in an amusing dance. The two clearly want to move towards one another, but hesitance lays thickly at their feet, and something in Jared resonates with that. He squeezes Camilla again gently. Finally, after much sidestepping, the pair hop together, chirping brightly as they begin picking apart the cluster of granola laying in front of them.

Jared feels buoyant.


End file.
